Run In
by Death by Fallen Star
Summary: It's tough viewing the world through a lens. You might miss some important things. Like someone who's about to tackle you to the ground. Mark&OC.


**A/N:** Hello my innocent bystanders! Now, as of late, I've been trying to create a character for Mark to fall incredibly in love with. I'm stuck between to girls. The one you're about to read is Barbara Gibson, who I like better. The other one is Lisa Cross, who's also a good choice. Since I can't decide, I thought it would be best to let you, the people, choose! Everyone who participates, will get five chaces to vote. After you read Barbara and Lisa's first encounters with Mark, you can say which one you like better in a review. Then, I'm going to have a little show down story, where there will be three chapters with a different type of moment with boh characters. You can vote on each chapter. Then there will also be a poll on my profile, where you can vote. First girl to twenty is the winner!

Now to the story!

**Disclaimer:**** The Lovely Jonathan Larson, Rest In Peace, is the owner of RENT. I am simply an adoring fan of his work.**

* * *

**Run-In**

"March fifteen, three PM, eastern standard time."

It was tough, viewing the world through a lens sometimes. You could miss out on the actual point of the moment, see the realistic-ness of it all.

Still, someone had to do it. And that someone was Mark Cohen.

He was in the process of video taping a homeless guy on the corner of the street across from him, asking for change. From what Mark could tell, the most he had gotten was a quarter thrown in his face.

People are cruel.

"And here," he said in his narrating tone. "comes another possible giving person." A young man walked by, holding one of those cellular phone things. "Will he be nice or a jack ass like that past fifteen people?" he asked his imaginary audience.

Mark video taped as the man walked by the homeless person. Luckily, from where Mark stood, he was able to hear everything.

"Change, sir?" the homeless man asked.

The man took a glance and said, in a disgusted tone, "For what, you're booze and drugs? Don't think so ya bum." He then spit on his feet, and walked off.

"Jack ass number sixteen," Mark said. "And so, the pattern continues. Is there not a decent person out there?"

The pattern went on for the next half hour, and Mark was growing sad and bored from filming this. No one was going to be nice to the guy it seemed, which was proving worthless for the one section he wanted for his documentary. He wanted one or two parts, with people being a least a little nice to the homeless. And so far, he was failing at that much.

He started to pack up his camera in dismay, when something caught his eye.

He looked across the street and saw a brunette walking down the side walk, taking off her little book bag in a haste. As she was going through the small black purse bag, Mark remembered once seeing a woman do this, and then pull pepper spray out on a homeless guy. Mark couldn't bear to see this happen again, but still, as a film maker, he would probably want this footage one day. So, regretfully, he filmed as the girl walked up to the man, something in her hand that was blocked by her body and her bag back on her back.

"Shall we already title her 'Miss Pepper Spray'?" Mark said.

"Pardon me miss," said Homeless Man, "But do you have some spare change?"

Mark held his breath, and waited for her to make the move, but what she did shocked him.

"Here you go, sir," she said and put money, green money, in his hand. "I don't have much, but it's better then nothing right?" she asked.

"Y-Yes," Homeless Man stammered. "Thank you so much Miss."

"Oh, it's no problem," she smiled.

Mark zoomed in, stunned.

"I just hope you use it wisely," she said sternly.

"I will," he said nodding and putting the money in his torn trench coat.

A paper that had been half hanging out of her purse suddenly grew much looser with a passing wind. Within the next few seconds, it flew out of her purse, heading straight for Mark.

He filmed as her brown doe eyes grew bigger. "Shit! My essay!" she yelled, running out in the street, which had several cars honking at her. She seemed to be ignoring them, and headed straight for Mark.

Mark, looked up and the paper flew right to him. He grabbed it, planning on giving it to her once she was one this side of the street. But the second his hand held the paper, something rammed straight into his torso and chest. He lost balance so fast he fell straight on his back to the patch of grass that was thankfully behind him.

It was about fifteen seconds of groaning in pain and pure confusion till Mark was able to open his eyes. He saw those doe brown eyes open as well and he was mesmerized. Her face was heart shaped, and white, but dotted with brown freckles on her cheeks. Her make up made her glow, and he wasn't sure if she had on blush, or if the redness was natural, though he was pretty sure it was the latter. Her dark brown hair had created a curtain around his head and he could smell the scent radiating off it. Like…. Oranges?

His leg twitched involuntarily, which made him become aware of the position they had landed in. Which was him on his back, holding her paper in one hand and clutching his camera they laid on her hip in the other. She had landed to where she was straddling him by the waist with her knees and her hands on his chest. Along with the rest of her pressed against him.

This was awkward……

"Oh!" she said suddenly, as if just realizing that she landed on a complete stranger. She rolled off him, landing on his hand, making him wince. "Shit! Sorry!" she squeaked, her face turning even more red. She sat up and placed her face in her hands. "Shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit, shit, sorry!" she said, obviously flustered.

Mark sat up, wincing a little. "It's alright," He said looking over at her.

"I just rammed into you, so not really," she remarked sarcastically, not looking at him.

"You had your reasons," Mark said, pulling the hand that had her paper up to her. "Your essay, I'm assuming."

She finally took her hands away from her face and instead made them cling onto the now crumpled piece of notebook paper. "My gawd, thank you!" she said. "My professor would have killed me if I hadn't turned this in." She let out a long breath. She looked over at Mark and smiled. Mark thought he would go blind from its innocent sparkle. "Thank you _so_ much," she said. "And again, I am _so_ sorry."

"You're welcome, and really, it's okay," he said, smiling himself. They were still sitting in the grass, receiving odd looks from passing people, but Mark didn't really care. He extended his hand to her and said, "Mark Cohen, apparent essay savior."

She giggled and shook his hand. "Barbara Gibson, essay damsel in distress," she joked back, making Mark laugh as well.

Their hands seemed to stay connected longer then needed, put Mark couldn't help the surges of energy he was getting it.

Barbara coughed, a bit awkwardly. "Maybe we should get off the grass. Lord knows how many times a day this place has been pissed on." She giggled.

"Right," Mark jumped to his feet, camera in hand. He helped Barbara to stand up, and she somehow managed to trip a little and was scooted closer to him then she had probably intended. Her free hand was clutching his and she was pushed right back up against him. Mark took this moment to see that the top of her head just reached his nose. She looked back up at him and the blood that had almost seemed to drain from her face returned.

"Jeez, sorry," she said and pulled back, taking her hand with her. "This has just been an awkward past five minutes, hasn't it?' she asked, seeming to want to lift the tension.

"Yeah," Mark agreed.

Again, awkward…

Mark inspected his camera for any damage that might have happened, before putting it back in his bag.

Barbara gave him a questioning look, "Were you video taping me?" she asked.

Mark's eyes grew wide. "No! Well, yes technically… but not really you, just -" he stopped and took a breath. "I'm making a documentary of the homeless and was videotaping the man you gave money too. So yes and no, to your question," he finally answered.

She giggled and smiled again. "Oh, okay. That makes sense."

Mark smiled back. Even though Barbara had been the one to crash into him, he felt like he owed her something. So he suggested, "Can I get you a coffee?" She looked at him, and to Mark her eyes seemed to brighten. "There's an Italian coffee shop just over there," he gestured to a little row of shops.

She fiddle with her fingers for a second, obviously debating. For some reason, Mark felt himself praying up and down that she would say yes.

She gave him another star dazzling smile and said, "Sure."

Inside, Mark was thrilled. On the outside, he simply smiled back, and nodded. "Kay."

Their short walk to the coffee shop was silent, and Mark took this time to look over the brunette. She was small, and curvy. Her hips and chest were very flattering as to showing she was a girl. Her outfit was a blue shirt that said "SHOW STOPPER" in rhinestones and dark blue jeans with holes in the knees. He was pretty sure her shoes were dirty white high tops, although they could have brown too. And her brown hair was apparently waist length with random little braids in it.

All and all, she was a show stopper.

He opened the door for her when they reached the shop. She trotted in with him in tow. She walked over to the counter and stood behind a man who was ordering.

"I can buy my coffee," Barbara told Mark.

"No, I will. It's the least I can do." For what?

"I'm the one who ran into you, remember?" she reminded. "I should be buying you the coffee. But I'm near broke, so I can't, but I can afford my own."

"Please let me," Mark said, slightly begging.

She looked at him, a little stunned, but nodded. "Fine, but I want a small hot chocolate," she told matter-of-factly.

"Medium hot chocolate," Mark said, acting like he hadn't changed her order.

Barbara let out a breathy giggle as her jaw dropped, but a smile was clearly working its way into her features. "I said small," she told.

"Medium, I heard you," Mark said, teasing her.

"Mark!" she giggled. "How dare you defy me."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Yeah, cause I could totally kick your ass."

"I don't doubt that."

Barbara busted into a fit of giggles.

Mark chuckled and walked up to the counter. "One _medium_ hot chocolate," he glanced at Barbara who was glaring at him. "And a medium coffee, black," he told the lady at the counter.

"Is that all?" the lady, who name tag said to be Pepper, asked smiling.

Mark looked back at Barbara again and she continued to glare at him. "Anything else?" he asked.

She was about to respond when her stomach suddenly roared loudly. "Dammit," she mumbled and threw her arms over her stomach. She looked at Mark skeptically. "Ignore that," she demanded.

Mark smirked and look back at Pepper. "A chocolate chip cookie too, please." Luckily, he just got some money from the news again, since they sold his footage to some other state, so he had plenty of money at the moment.

"Thirteen forty-seven," Pepper said.

Mark gave her a curious look. "Did you add the cookie?" he asked, mentally smacking himself.

"It's complementary," she said and winked.

Mark shrugged and handed her the money.

"You're order will be ready in a minute," she told and Mark nodded.

Him and Barbara went over to get a table and Barbara continued to glare at him. "I've known you for ten minutes, and I suddenly hate you," she said in a joking tone.

"Oh, don't do that now," Mark chuckled. "I'm just being nice."

"By flashing your money around?" she challenged.

"Just being a gentlemen."

"Well save it for a hooker, honey," Barbara joked and Mark laughed. Mark looked to see she still had her essay clutched in her hands.

"So, you go to school?" Mark asked her. He couldn't tell how old she might have been. His guess was at least eighteen…. Or maybe that was just his hope.

"NYU," she said and Mark tried to not sigh in relief. "What about you?"

Mark felt himself blush a little. "Oh, I didn't go to college," he stated.

"Oh, that's cool." she said and nodded.

"What's your major?" Mark asked, curious about her, and not wanting to dwell on his lack of education.

"Writer," she said with a smile. "I wanted to go to Berkley, but that place is expensive. So now I take odd end classes that may help me in the future as a writer." She looked down at her essay and sighed. "Of course, this class may have been a mistake."

"Is it hard?" Mark leaned on the table on his elbows and held his head up with his hands.

"Mostly just troublesome. I'm barely coming out with a B, but I know it'll be useful." Barbara looked back up at him and gave a half smile. "Though my Professor loves to tell the class that it's a waste unless you're gonna teach it." She rolled her eyes and Mark chuckled.

"He sounds very motivational."

"Just the classes number one cheerleader."

Mark busted out in laughter again.

"Order up," Pepper said from the counter.

Mark stood up at the same time Barbara did. She glared at him and said, "Sit you ass down, Mr. Gentlemen." She then trotted over to the counter and picked up their drinks along with a bag obviously holding her cookie.

Mark shook his head and chuckled, sitting down the same time she did. "You just don't want people to be nice to you or what?" he asked.

Barbara handed him his coffee and told, "Just people I've just met and happened to crash into the ground." She winced and added, "Sorry about that, again."

"Forget it," Mark commanded. "Really, it's not like you broke my spine."

"Oh, don't tell me what _might_ have happened!" she said and put the hand that wasn't holding her cup to cover her eyes.

Mark laughed and added, "Seriously _it's okay_. Quit worrying about it."

"Okay, okay," she sighed and took a breath. She looked down at her cookie and eyed Mark wearily. "How'd you know I liked chocolate chip?"

Mark shrugged. "Who doesn't?"

Barbara smiled. "Touché." She took the cookie out and broke it in half. She sat one half back down on the bag and held the other out to Mark. "Here," she said simply.

Mark took the half and smiled. "Thanks." He waited a few seconds and then said, "That's how you show gratitude." He smirked.

"Shush!" she squealed through giggles. "You are _mean_." She took a gulp of her drink before wincing. "Shit…."

"It's called _hot_ chocolate for a reason you know," Mark teased.

"Shut it."

"Shut what?"

"Your mouth."

"How am I going to eat my cookie then?"

"Just eat your cookie and be quiet."

"…. What if I don't want to?"

Barbara busted into giggles again. "You're funny," she complimented.

"Thanks," Mark said, bashfully.

A nice, non-awkward silence settled upon them as they drank and ate. They both were obviously trying not stare at the other, but ended up glancing at each other every once in awhile.

"So…," he felt complied to talk to her, at least until they both finished their miniature meals. "What class were you talking about?" he decided to ask.

She swallowed the bit of cookie she had left and responded, "Philosophy."

"Oh," Mark said and went to take another drink.

"Yeah, it's computer-aged philosophy, and Professor Collins is all into it," Barbara told.

Mark coughed mid-drink, almost making him choke and a bit of coffee to role around in his throat and brain. He coughed and set his drink down. "Fuck," he managed to cough up.

"Gawd, you okay?" Barbara asked, leaning towards him a bit.

"I'm not God," he coughed up.

"This is not time to be funny."

"Couldn't help it."

"Seriously, you okay?"

"Hot coffee stuck in my throat, lungs and up my nose a little. So yeah, peachy."

"Do you want a tissue or something?"

"Nah, I'll be fine," Mark told, finally calming down. "Ugh," he grunted and rubbed his neck. "That wasn't fun."

"Didn't think it was," Barbara said, going back to sitting in her seat. "What made you have a random spazz attack?" she asked.

"You're taking computer aged philosophy, with Professor Collins?" he asked.

"Yeah, but that's nothing to get choked up about." She smiled at her joke, trying not to laugh.

"Ha ha," Mark said sarcastically. "Anyways, your Professor, is one of my friends." This kind of thing kept happening n his circle of friends. Knowing someone else, and then meeting someone completely different by pure accident. It was getting weird.

"No way," Barbara said, disbelieving.

"Honest truth."

"That is _cool_."

"How so?"

"Just like in the 'it's a small world after all' kind of cool."

"I think New York's just small."

"Well yeah, but do you really have to crash down on my Disney moment?"

"At least I just crashed on a idea…."

"You're gonna make me feel bad again!"

Mark laughed and set his nearly empty cup down on the table. He looked at Barbara smiling at him again.

'_I like her,'_ he thought involuntarily. It was a little weird to him, since he hadn't really liked anyone since Maureen dumped him, but it was still true.

He watched as she shook he cup and sat it down. She was probably done, and so was he. They would both have to part in a moment, and Mark could feel the disappointment rising in him.

"So, I'm in your film right?" Barbara asked randomly.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"Then, if it ever gets famous, you owe me money right?"

"Not unless you sue me."

"Well, if you pay me, I won't."

"You serious?"

"Yep."

"Well, if the film ever gets famous and I can find you, I will gladly give you a whole fifteen dollars."

"Well I don't want you to _not _find me." Barbara suddenly smirked and leaned forward. "Guess I'll just have to give you my number to make sure you find me."

Mark could feel the blood jump to his cheeks. She was hitting on him.

He tried to seem just as sly as she was. "And you just want me to call when my documentary is famous?"

"Well, you'll have to call every once in awhile to tell me how it's progressing. And you'll need to call probably sometime tomorrow after you viewed my performance and tell me how I did."

"And this is all, just to make sure you don't sue me?"

"Maybe," she said playfully.

Mark looked at her a second, and regretfully dropped the little act for a moment and said, "You're 18, right?"

She giggled and said, "I'm 19 big boy."

Mark smiled. He was twenty four and he did not need to get arrested for statutory.

"So, we have a deal?" she asked.

"Of course."

Barbara pulled back and took her purse off her back. She quickly rummaged through it, and Mark watched amused.

"College student without a pen. This just seems wrong." She sighed. Mark chuckled, still watching. "Oh wait…. Here's a…." she then pulled out a bright blue Crayola crayon out of the bag. They both looked at it questionly. "Why the hell do I have a crayon?" she asked herself.

"Are you taking a colouring class as well?" Mark asked jokingly.

"Ha ha, Mr. Funny. Pass me a napkin."

He did as he was told and she blocked his view of what she was scribbling on the napkin. He smiled and watched. He was actually getting a number from a girl whom he liked. Roger would sure as hell pick on him about it, but right now he was to ecstatic to care.

Barbara folded the napkin in half and put her purse back on. She stood out of her seat and took the one step over to Mark's side. She held the napkin out for him and said, "Please don't have your people call my people."

"Never," Mark chuckled. He grabbed one side of the napkin, but Barbara didn't let go.

"It was nice running into you Mark." She giggled.

"Same here, Barbara." He laughed back and stared at her eyes.

She quickly leaned in a kissed his cheek before letting go of the napkin and skipped out of the building. Mark watched after her, stunned, and she only looked back at him once to wave and wink at him.

Mark glanced down at the napkin after she was out of view. He unfolded and read what she had wrote with the crayon.

_I sure hope I didn't chicken out __not__ kiss you on the cheek. That would suck because then you'd be reading this and get mad might not call me! : ( I think you should call me though Mark. It'd make me happy : )_

_-Barbara E. Gibson(You're curious now, aren't you?)_

And then her number was scrawled on the bottom.

He smiled and picked up their trash and threw it away, careful to keep he napkin in his hand.

He walked the whole way home with grin carved onto his face.

**The End**

* * *

**A/N:** So, you like her? I do. She's much more confident then Lisa is..... But Lisa has her aspects to. I'll put the story up ASAP.

*Singing* Would you please reviiiiiieeeeeew?

Oh! Vote too!


End file.
